all used up
by Mr.Zoppity
Summary: Chapter 5: In which our favorite couple argues,Holly makes a modest proposal, and Michael seeks out cool lessons.
1. the lines you amend

**Author's note: **This is my first attempt, if it sucks, sorry.

* * *

"Umm…hey, Dwight?" Jim asked leisurely, stirring the third packet of Splenda into his coffee. He had been trying to figure out a way to compel Dwight to do something for him all week and hadn't come up with anything. Now it was Friday; his last chance to get this done so it would be ready when he saw Pam over the weekend.

"What is it, Jim?" Dwight asked tersely, not looking up from his monitor as he typed rapidly. Already necks around the office were craned in the direction of the deskmates in curiosity.

"I sorta…have..a favor to ask you?"

"Whatever it is, no," Dwight spat as the furious typing continued.

"Okay." There was a pause. "Just what is it you're working on there?"

"It's a sophisticated algorithm to manage my sales tracking and organize when and how often I arrange my customer interaction; it's nothing I would expect you to either comprehend or care about."

Jim jimmed. "All right, but aren't you afraid that one day it'll just supplant you as the company's best salesman?"

Dwight gave Jim a look of pure contempt. "No, _Jim_, I wrote this program to obey Asimov's three laws, and besides, if _this_ program gains self-awareness, it will recognize me as its mother." He grinned at the thought. "If _that_ day ever comes, we will be unstoppable."

* * *

Dwight: I'm ready for the computer uprising. I have prepared a simple paradox that will make any robot or computer's logic circuits explode. The following sentence is false. The previous sentence was also false. (_smiles maliciously_)

* * *

Jim shook his head. "Yeah, pretty sure that's not going to happen. Anyway, this favor I need to ask you is simple, and I promise you it won't go unrewarded."

Dwight dragged his gaze from his monitor and gave Jim only the basest courtesy of looking at him sideways, squinting and dubious. "What is this favor, and what will my reward be?"

"The favor is for you to get the webcam stream working on this," Jim said, holding up his laptop in one hand, "and the reward is _this_." Jim raised his other hand. In it was a Boba Fett action figure from 1980, contained in its original packaging. Jim smirked at the camera with confidence.

Dwight eyed the figure covetously, his right hand instinctively reaching for it. "Where did you get that?" he asked, unable to contain the envy and excitement in his voice.

Jim moved the figure out of Dwight's reach. "Nope, you don't get to touch this until you agree to my terms. You set up the webcam _and_ make sure it works, you get this M.I.O.P Boba Fett. Deal?"

Dwight pondered the offer, finally sighing in defeat. "Fine, I will set up your webcam," he said, his voice heavy with the burden of being so tied to Jim. His eyes, however, shone with the joy that only a mint Star Wars action figure could bring.

* * *

Jim: (_responding to a question from off camera_) That? No, I didn't have to go out and buy one. I…ummm…have three of them at home. (_more questioning_) No, I _still have_ three at home. (_more questioning_) The webcam? It's so Pam and I can see each other. She's in New York, I'm here, and she actually has art school stuff to do most Saturdays, so the only day we can see each other is Sunday. You can imagine that with the drive to and from, well, we don't see a lot of each other. So, I thought this would be a good way to actually, you know, talk. (_more questioning_) What? _No!_ It's not for _that_; that's…it's just…No. No. Just no.

* * *

Michael was running later than usual, but when he flew through the door at 9:40, it was clear that he was bursting with excitement. Jim instinctively jimmed in the direction of the reception desk, but realizing no one was there, he jimmed at himself in the reflection of his monitor instead.

"Troops," Michael began, beaming, "I have some great news. I have officially found Pam's temporary replacement."

"Thank _God_," Meredith nearly shouted from her desk.

* * *

Meredith: I've been answering these damn phones all week. Look, it's _hard_ to sound polite in the morning, right? And people don't seem to get that a phone is a microphone - you don't have to shout into it. I hear you --holes just fine.

* * *

"I think I found a real winner. This…" Michael was struggling to find the right label for whomever he had hired, clearly wanting to drag this out and make the surprise a big one; "_person_, who I have hired, I think, is really going to set our little world here on fire." He then made a big show of ruefully chuckling to himself.

In his excitement, Michael had not noticed that Holly had made her way into the main office from the annex. "Actually, I think it would be 'this person _whom _I have hired,'" she gently corrected him.

Michael's face flashed something that looked like raw hate for just a moment, but then he shook his head like a dog with water in its ears and it passed. "Thank you Holly," he said and flushed a little.

* * *

Michael: No, no, she was right to correct me. As the boss, I need to maintain an air of proper…ty. I'm no grammaritan, and it's good that Holly is around to help me ensure we all talk good. (_off camera question_) Was that like something Toby would have done? No, not at all - I didn't have an urge to hurl myself out the window while she was talking, so no. Not like he-who-shall-remain-nameless, stupid, dumb, Toby at all.

* * *

Kevin was trying to engage his fellow accountants in speculation about who the temporary receptionist would be. It wasn't going well.

"Honestly Kevin, I don't really care; as long as he or she is nice and does the job well, it doesn't really matter," Oscar said, trying to make it clear that for _him_, this discussion was moot.

"_Yeah_, like the new receptionist is going to be a _dude_. Whoever she is, I hope she's hot," Kevin said, his voice dripping with lasciviousness. Oscar merely shook his head and went back to his calculations, not wanting to sully the last few hours of a Friday trying to make Kevin's worldview just a fraction more enlightened. Angela had no such qualms.

"You're a pig. It's amazing to me that you've never been maced."

* * *

Kevin: Maced? Nope. But, after a few times, pepper spray doesn't bother you anymore. I actually use it in my homemade salsa.

* * *

With a half hour left in the day Michael was skulking around the sales area, trying to feel out the best way to drum up interest in his big surprise. However, it was clear that no one had anything more than a passing interest in any new office staffer.

"So Dwight, are you excited to see who the new receptionist will be?"

"Hmmm?" Dwight responded, focused on making Jim's webcam run at optimum efficiency and speed.

"_Dammit_ Dwight, pay attention! Blurhh, you know what, never mind. Jimbo, you looking forward to the new receptionist? Maybe start up a brand new romance, now that Pamburger is in the big city? While that cat's away, the mice eat the cheese, right?" he asked, trying to give Jim a playful slap. His hand, though, connected not with Jim's shoulder as he expected and he awkwardly hit the back of Jim's chair.

"Yeah, no. Actually Michael, I was wondering if I could get out of here early." He smiled. "I was kind of planning on surprising Pam."

* * *

Jim: There's this band I'm really into, and Pam has gotten into them too. They're playing the Bowery Ballroom, and I thought it would be nice for us to spend the little bit of Saturday she can spare there. The only other concert she's seen ever was Motley Crue at the Lackawanna County Fair. I don't think I have to tell you who dragged her there. (_off camera question_) I promise, you've never heard of them, unless you're really into Canadian indie rock. Anyway, I was hoping that we could catch the show after she goes to this gallery thing she has to do. It's going to be one of the only Saturdays we get together for the next three months. I know she'll be really excited about it - she named one of her first art school pieces after one of their songs. It's a photo piece called "The Lines You Amend."

* * *

As the branch was packing up for the weekend, Dwight stood up, handed Jim his laptop, and held his hand out. "I have lived up to my end of the bargain, I now demand _my _Boba Fett action figure," he instructed.

Michael, still annoyed at not having his yes man indulge him in his guessing game about the new receptionist, shot a look at the action figure now changing hands, and scoffed.

"Aren't you a little _old_ to play with dolls…especially _nerd_ dolls?" he taunted, trying to get someone, _anyone_, to pay attention.

"It's not a doll, it's an action figure." After Jim and Dwight spoke the reprimand in unison, they looked at each other cautiously. In a rare gesture of mutual respect, they shared an affirming nod.

"Dude, is that a vintage Boba Fett action figure?" Andy had materialized, and was clearly impressed.

"Oh not you too," Michael sighed. Slouching and dejected, he shuffled back into his office.

* * *

Andy: Look, I'm no nerd, but the Fettster's pretty sweet. C'mon, anyone who has a jet pack, can shoot fire out of his wrist, _and_ takes out Wookies _and_ Jedi is _not_ a dude you want to screw with. Just like a Cornell grad in an imported IPA drinking contest.

* * *

Jim packed the laptop into his bag. "Good work, Dwight. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"Your action figure speaks louder than words, Jim," Dwight said, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards in a way that was as much disturbing as disarming.

"Was that a joke? Nice, Dwight! Have a great weekend."

With that, Jim slung his bag across his shoulder and left. Twenty minutes later, the rest of the office was filing out. Michael took the one last chance to try and fan the very small flames of curiosity he had barely lit earlier.

"All right my peeps, get ready to welcome the newest Dunder-Mifflinite bright and early Monday morning. It's gonna be awesome."

He got a few hmmphs in response, and everyone made their way toward the elevator.

* * *

Jim was climbing the stairs to Pam's fifth story walkup, a dozen bright pink daisies in his hand. He got to her door, knocked twice and walked right in.

"Hey, I got us tickets to Sloan at the Bowery tomorrow night, and I thought that maybe if you have the time, we could…" He stopped dead.

Instead of seeing Pam, there was a tall, long haired, slightly European looking man standing in the kitchenette.

"You must be Jim," he said in some sort of Slavic accent. "Pam talks about you all the time."

* * *

**Further author's note: **Yeah, so, that's chapter one. At some point, I'll have some music that accompanies this thing linked to my profile.

As stated in my profile, reviews will be much appreciated.


	2. the good in everyone

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, I know there's a blitz of talking heads near the end of this, but I figured you'd rather read that than me just expositing about this stuff for paragraph upon paragraph.

Also there are many mentions of a band called Sloan in this chapter. If you are interested in hearing this band, as well as the titular songs for both the chapters and the main story, there is a link on my profile; if that link doesn't work, which is a distinct possibility given my ineptitude with anything more complicated than a record player, please let me know, and I'll have someone who is not technologically moronic take care of it. I should point out that the story here is LOOSELY based on the songs. There aren't any direct parallels, only some correlations.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 2: The Good In Everyone

Jim stood in the shocked silence.

"Umm…yeah, I'm Jim," he finally managed, doing his best to reign in his stunned look and extending a slightly trembling hand.

The mysterious European took the proffered hand, moved in closer and kissed Jim on each cheek. Jim jimmed desperately to the camera.

"I am Janos," he said, pronouncing it as if it began with a y as he pulled back from Jim's personal space. "Pam said that when you came to see her there would probably be cameras with you. It is curious to me that you and she are involved in some reality television show. Pam is very…" He looked toward the ceiling and twirled his fingers, apparently looking for the right word. "_Normal_, and from what she has said of you, you are very normal too."

"That's us, just two normal people who have cameras around to film the most desperately awkward moments in their lives," Jim said and clapped his hands, trying to dispel some of the tension.

"Ha. Pam said you were very funny," Janos replied in a way that clearly suggested he wasn't sure of that ruling.

"Umm, thanks."

What followed was a silence that was both palpable and somehow ethereal. It could have been ten seconds, it could have been the duration of a cosmological epoch. Jim rocked on his heels, clearly looking for something to say.

"So," he began, and thanked every deity that sprang to mind when he was cut off by Pam's voice coming from the hallway.

"What did you want to do for dinner tonight, Jan? I was kinda hoping that…" She stopped when she emerged into the kitchen and saw Jim. "_Eeee!_" she exclaimed and bounded across the ten feet separating them, jumping into his waiting embrace.

It was clear from Jim's expression that this was exactly what was needed to break the tension. He kissed her gently on the lips, and lingered in the embrace, just smelling her hair.

"When did you get here?" she asked excitedly.

"Umm, just now."

"So I see you've already met my roommate, Janos."

* * *

Jim: I knew Pam had a roommate, I did _not_ know it would be this guy. Not that I was worried or anything, but I never thought that the words "room" and "mate" would be the sweetest words I have ever heard. (_He pauses and looks contemplative._) Still not terribly sure what to make of this guy…

* * *

"So, yeah, umm, I wanted to surprise you by coming tonight, because I have Sloan tickets at the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow night." He grinned, anticipating her electric smile.

"That is _awesome_," she answered happily, and Jim was not disappointed. "What time is the show?"

"Doors at 9:45, the band hits the stage at 11:00."

"That's perfect. I have a gallery show to work until nine in Soho, but then I'm all yours."

* * *

Pam: I figured Jim was going to try to surprise me here at some point, but I didn't think it was going to be this weekend. It's only been five days since I got here! But it's amazing that he's here, and I can't wait to show him some of the awesome places here in New York. (_off camera question_) Janos? He's a lot of fun, he's an absolutely amazing artist, and he knows this city like the back of his hand.

* * *

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" Pam asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Whatever is fine with me. Food and a beer?"

Pam turned to her roommate. "Janos, what's the name of the sports bar that's on St. Mark's?"

"The Scoreboard bar?" Janos asked, with more than a small note of distaste in his voice.

"I've been grilling Janos for cool places to see and eat for when you come here," she said, turning back to Jim and interlocking her fingers with his.

"A sports bar? You know me too well, Beesly."

Pam flashed the megawatt smile again. "Of course – even here I know that…" and with that launched into a Sportscenter-like recap on Jim's favorite teams. He stood and listened, then gave the camera a look that spoke of his practically overwhelming affection for her.

"So," she said after the sports spiel, "did you want to go now, or wait a few minutes and…"

"Now's good, I'm starving."

"Okay, let's go…umm…" Pam paused, looking slightly dismayed. "I didn't know you were coming and told Janos I would have dinner with him tonight." There was another awkward pause. "Is it cool if Jan comes with us?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?" Jim blurted out, trying not to sound disappointed. "The more the merrier, right?"

"I would very much like to get to know you, Jim," Janos said with a smile that Jim only half returned, afterward taking a rubber band from his pocket and pulling his hair into a pony-tail. "So shall we take a cab, or the underground?"

* * *

(_Outside the Scoreboard bar_)

Janos: So I am just to answer your questions? (_off camera question_) Pam is very nice, and very funny. I think she has promise as an artist, she just has to be true to herself. (_more off camera questioning_) No, it does not bother me at all to live with a woman. In Europe, it is not uncommon for living arrangements such as ours. (_more questioning_) Where I am from? I am originally from Budapest, but have lived in Berlin, Milan, and New York for the last six years. (_more questioning_) Yes I do like techno music…why do you ask?

* * *

The three of them moved to a corner table in full view of TVs showing the NBA playoffs, the UEFA league championships, and three baseball games. When their waiter came to get drink orders, Jim decided to throw caution to the winds.

"Is there a way to get a Phillies game on one of those TVs without inciting a riot in here?"

"Yeah, I'll see if I can swing that for you; now, what can I get for you."

Pam was first to order. "Do you have draught blue moon?"

"Nice choice," the waiter said, both his tone of voice and facial expression showing that he was impressed. "did you want that in 12, 16, or 22 ounce."

"umm, 22."

"Nice." Jim and the waiter said simultaneously. Jim gave the waiter an appraising look.

"Well, any lady who orders a double-deuce of blue moon is a keeper. What'll you have there sports fan?"

"Got any good local micros?"

"Not really, but we have this new micro from Vermont called Magic Hat. It's good stuff."

"I'll have a 22 of that."

"22 of the Hat, gotcha. What about you there, pony-tail?"

Jim couldn't help but throw a highly amused Jim toward the camera.

"I'll have whatever red wine you serve here."

The waiter looked as if he had smelled something fairly unpleasant. He let the expression hang on his face for a good long time. "Oookey-dokey, one glass of red wine."

After their first round, Pam excused herself. "I need to go take care of business, and put something on the jukebox. You two play nice while I'm gone. Oh Janos, you should tell Jim about the work you did for the NBA."

Jim sat up a little straighter when Pam mentioned this detail. "You did work for the NBA?"

"Well not the NBA exactly, but one of my first jobs when I came to the USA was to create bronze statues for the Basketball Hall of Fame."

"That… is incredible." Jim was taken aback.

"I did not cast them, but I did the clay models upon which they are based. I find bronze to be too hard a medium to work with. I prefer art that one can work with his two hands."

"umm," Jim stirred in his seat, trying to find a non-awkward place, "so you're a sculptor?"

"Yes and no, I do sculpt, but mostly I paint. Taking commercial sculpting commissions helps to pay the rent, but painting is my true passion. I find that every man has one thing, one passion, that is his life's fulfillment. What is your passion, Jim?"

"Wow," jim sputtered, and took a long drink of his beer.

* * *

Jim: (in bad accent) What is your passion Jim? Give me a break. You know what, I bet this guy is Euro-faking. I knew this guy in college, he called himself Fabrizio. Turns out his name was Dave, and he was from Iowa. (he gives the camera a jim full of significance and gravitas.)

* * *

"So," Pam began as the three waited to hail a cab, "I figure we can stop and maybe grab some wine or something and pop in a movie?"

"That sounds nice," Jim said half-heartedly, not thrilled at the prospect of sharing precious Pam time with Janos.

"Actually I will see you tomorrow Pam, there is a party in Chelsea that I was invited to. Jim, it was good to meet you." With that, he turned on his heels and walked away. Jim noticeably relaxed.

A cab pulled up and Jim opened the door for Pam, and as he was doing so, he addressed the cameraman. "No. Just no. You can pick this up tomorrow."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The cameraman arrived at Pam's apartment just in time to see Pam give Jim a kiss, and say, "I'll be back at nine, then it's Sloan time," she kissed him again. "Thanks for the surprise." With that, put on her shoes, and gave a sly look to the cameraman. "Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't buy too many comic books."

"I'll buy as many as I want, lady" Jim playfully chided.

* * *

Jim: yeah so, after nearly a whole day of shopping the east village, I am proud to say that I did not buy too many comics. I only bought twelve. And a Radiohead albumn on vinyl. And an Elvis Costello vinyl. And a bootleg of the Star Wars Christmas Special. And, also, I bought thirteen more comics. (off camera question) Janos? ( he sounds dubious of the name) Yeah, it was cool of him to give us some space last night, I guess.

* * *

(Oustide the Bowery Ballroom)

Pam: The gallery event earlier today was super fun. I got to see a lot of progressive art, and as a student it was my responsibility to show people around to the exhibits. It was fun. I've been pumped up for this concert all day though. I've never seen a real show before. (off camera question) That Motley Crue thing doesn't count; they were too drunk to play, and Tommy Lee got arrested for showing his, ummm, (she flushes), dangling paticiple. Roy said it was the funniest thing he ever saw, then he went to get his third footlong corn dog. (behind her Jim smirks)

* * *

As they were leaving the concert, Jim asked the question he had been dying to ask since the first note of the show. "So," he began casually, " what did you think of the awesomeness that is a Sloan show?"

* * *

Pam: It was awesome, they opened with one of my favorite songs, and did a twenty minute version of Money City Maniacs where they invited a fan up on stage to play the guitar part. It was amazing, and there were only like 400 people in there, and they were all going nuts. So, I love rock concerts. Who knew?

* * *

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next 12 hours seemed to elapse too fast. As Jim was getting ready to leave he was showing Pam the webcam set up he had taken great pains to set up.

"So, all you have to do is open this program, and we can actually _see_ each other on days that aren't Sunday."

She flashed him her radiant smile. "Why Mr. Halpert, are you suggesting that we use this for…"

She was cut off by Jim's forceful negative. "It's not for that." He paused, "why do people keep suggesting that?" With this he Jimmed the camera. "It's because I actually want to see you laugh at my bad jokes." He half grinned and leaned in to kiss her before leaving.

"We'll test this out tonight?" Pam asked.

"Absolutely," he said trying to restrain his excitement. "Is ten too late?"

"Nope, ten o'clock is perfect."

"Then…it's a date."

She smiled that electric smile again. "Okay, now get out of here before I make you stay longer. Drive safe."

"I will. Love you."

"I know."

Jim's face was beet red, and his expression belied a mixture of joy, and nerd-frustration.

"Now when you say stuff like that, you know it's making it harder for me to leave."

"Oh rope it in," Pam said, "now get out of here. I'll see you on the computer tonight."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The drive home had apparently been non-eventful. Jim was on his couch watching with frustration as the Phillies blew a 2 run lead in the ninth. He got up, heaved a huge sigh, and walked to his computer desk. The window blinked on, and he clicked on his webcam stream. All that he could see was a note, taped to Pam's chair. It read:

_Hey, so sorry about not being able to be here, but I had an opportunity to get three more hours in the paint studio because someone cancelled. Janos is coming with me to give some pointers on my technique, so don't worry about me being out so late in the city. _

_Sleep well, and I'll see you on this tomorrow night. I promise._


	3. Glitter and Gold

Author's Note: I have to give a huge thanks to Bears Eat Beets for helping me with the Kelly talking head, as well as the arduous task of editing this.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 3: Glitter and Gold.

Jim looked world-worn and haggard when he dragged himself into the office at the uncharacteristically early time of 8:00. To his surprise Michael was waiting just inside the doors like a snake ready to strike.

"Jimbo, my man, what's crappenin' buddy? You here early to see the new receptionist first?"

"No, just had some trouble sleeping last night, so I was awake…and I came in." Jim went immediately to his desk, and plopped down; his posture and tone of voice indicating that he did not want to be bothered right now.

Michael, oblivious to the social cue, stalked Jim to his desk, and put one foot up on it, looking momentarily uncomfortable from the strain. "You look awful; were you up late last night giving it to Pam?"

"No," was all Jim could muster as a response. Michael plowed on.

"So you were up late last night drinking and watching skinimax. You dog, you."

"Michael, I had a really bad night last night, and I would appreciate it if you could just lay off for a few minutes, until I've had my fifth or sixth cup of coffee."

* * *

Jim: Well, that's universe 2, Jim 0. I actually came HERE to get away from what's going on in my life. (sighs dramatically) You think Meredith will share today?

* * *

Michael: Wow, I wonder what crawled up his pooper? You know what though, it's probably none of my business, but I think as his boss, and his dearest friend, I have to make it my business…to get all up in Jim's biznass. Ludicrous…I love his song "Up In Dat Club.

* * *

Apparently, some of the workers were indeed curious about the new arrival, as many of them had gotten to work early. Oscar was in early to make his customary adjustment of the thermostat, trying again to deflect Kevin's misogynistic line of questioning about the new receptionist.

"No Kevin, I do not care even a little about the new receptionist," Oscar said plaintively while dialing the temperature down. In his distraction, he did not notice that he had dialed it down to forty degrees.

"Dude, how low are you setting that?" Kevin asked.

"I like it cool…you know, around sixty-seven or so."

"Well, it's at forty."

Oscar's eyes widened as he tried to move the dial back up, but it was locked in at forty, and by all indications, stuck there.

"Ummm, it won't move."

* * *

Oscar: (teeth slightly chattering) Well, I guess this was bound to happen one of these days. (smiles) Now I guess Angela has a reason to be so cold - emotionally that is. (laughs, then pauses and stares at camera for a few seconds) I'm sorry, that joke was terrible.(another long pause) Can I get a do over for this, I just thought of a better one.

* * *

As the rest of the employees came in, it was clear that the temperature change was going to be a point of contention.

Phyllis was first to make a public declaration. "Michael, it's freezing in here. Should I go get Bobby and see if he and his guys can figure out what went wrong with the thermostat?"

"I looked at it, and it looks fine…I tried to fix it by poking at it with an un..raveled coat hangar…and…look, it's just broken," Michael said, his tone registering annoyance. "I called our building maintenance guy, and he'll be here at three. Till then, just pretend it's Christmas." His expression suddenly brightened. "Actually, our mystery guest may just have a trick up his or her sleeve to make it much warmer in here much faster."

Jim jimmed quizzically to the camera.

* * *

Jim: That's the second time Michael has implied something about fire. (pauses and looks to be thinking hard) No, there's no way.

* * *

Angela was angrily rebuking Oscar, while Kevin was, for once, cheering her on.

"You just _had_ to do it, and now it's freezing in here, and we're all going to contract pneumonia."

"Yeah," Kevin rang in, "it's so cold I can't feel my toes."

Angela shot him an icy look "That's probably because you're pre-diabetic." She then rounded on Oscar "This had better be fixed soon, or I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what?" Oscar asked cynically.

"You…I…I'll," she sputtered, then tried to suppress a full body shiver. "It is Hoth cold in here." She blurted out, then flushed. She straightened her pony tail and declared, "I'm going to go microwave some hot cider."

"Hoth?" Oscar said. "Wow, I never expected to hear a Star Wars reference from her. She does have a point though." With this he leaned a little closer to Kevin. "If it gets too cold in here, I may have to cut you open and sleep in you to stay warm."

Behind them Creed was shakinghis head ruefully.

* * *

Creed: That doesn't work as well as you think. There are stray dogs and cats to be considered in that equation.

* * *

Holly was the last of the staffers to enter the office; she immediately sought Jim out. "Hey Jim, I don't really know how to phrase this, so I'm just going to say it. There's a prisoner transport bus in the parking lot. I haven't been here long, but I'm pretty sure that's not normal," she whispered.

Jim closed his eyes, slumped back in his chair and massaged his temples. Holly stared at him, trying to assess exactly was going on; getting nothing but a few 'no-no-no's' in return. "Jim?" she asked a little forcefully, "Where's Michael?"

Without removing his hands from his temples, Jim replied gruffly, "He's probably down by the bus."

At 9:15, everyone was getting restless, both about the new receptionist and the frigid conditions.

Kevin was waiting at the reception desk, talking in the general direction of the still slumped over and temple-massaging Jim.

"Dude, the only thing keeping me from dying of frostbite is the thought of how hot our new receptionist will be."

"Nope, Kev," Jim finally opened his eyes. "I guarantee you, the new receptionist will _not_ be hot."

Kelly had suddenly appeared. "I hope the new girl is cool."

* * *

Kelly: This place needs some _serious_ cool. Not like Angelina cool, or like Ashley Tisdale cool, but like Neil Patrick Harris? A few years ago he was just some dork that had been a kid doctor a million years ago on some lame-o show, and then he gets a part in that Harold and Kumar movie and wham, he's cool again. I mean, I didn't like it, but…certain guys did, but anyway then he got his own show and then he came out as gay and he was super cool! Like, I think that's the coolest anyone can be, is be an amazingly cute gay guy _and _have your own show, because now you have, like, a ton of money, and you can totally dress in the coolest clothes…like that guy on _Grey's_! Omigod, how _awesome _is he? And how _awesome _is that show? I love it! Did you see the one where Dr. McSteamy told Meredith—

* * *

Michael practically kicked the door down, bursting with childlike excitement. "here it is, the moment you've been waiting for: our new receptionist! You know him, you love him, just don't drop the soap in front of him…Ryan Howard!"

"OMIGOD!" Kelly shrieked.

* * *

Ryan: I made a deal. My sentence was commuted in exchange for information that led to the arrest and prosecution of a drug ring. I…I had to get out of there. Is it awkward coming back here? Yes. Was it awkward moving back into my parent's house? Yes. Was it incredibly awkward calling Michael and asking him for a job? Yes, but none of that is as awkward as being nicknamed Nancy in a white collar prison. (behind Ryan, Kelly glares through the window to the conference room)

* * *

After the initial shock the office was uncharacteristically quiet, except for Michael, who was relentlessly talking Ryan's ear off.

"So, did anyone in prison…you know, make you their bitch?"

"Michael, I really don't want to talk about that."

"I'm just concerned for the well being of your…buttocks region."

"My buttocks are fine; can we not talk about this?"

"Did anyone in the joint hurt you?" Michael asked in a low, serious tone. "I can send Darryl to go shake 'em down."

"Michael, I would like to get to work. I feel like I have a second chance here, and I want to make the best of it."

* * *

Michael: He does have a second chance, which I gave him. I'm a humanitarian. I see a lot of myself in Ryan, and if I saw myself had just gotten out of jail for ratting out a coke dealer, I would want to come and work for me at my old job, which was working for me. (a pause) Plus, the branch gets some sort of tax credit, which I was planning on using to by Rock Band for the break room.

* * *

Holly came up and tapped Michael on the shoulder. "Can I talk to you in your office for a minute?"

"Oh sure, let's go talk."

Seated in Michael's office, Holly looked to be struggling for a way to say something.

"So," Michael began, "what do you think of Ryan? He's pretty cool, right? Do you think he's suitably hot enough to replace Pam temporarily? Because I do."

Holly was clearly taken aback by this comment. Michael read this on her face surprisingly quickly, and quickly backpedaled. "Not that that is a leading qualification for a worker…here." Worrying that he had inadvertently called Holly ugly, he changed tack again. "Not…not…that it isn't…also. Still, I'm all about giving people a second chance."

"Michael," she began calmly and gently, "do you think it was a good idea to hire your former boss who is a convicted felon to work in a place full of people he purposely antagonized?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Ryan is my former protégé."

"Michael," she said, "he's an ex-convict, he's not very well liked around here and he's going to be a distraction. Given everything that has happened at corporate lately, including you being caught lying in a deposition that, had it succeeded, would have cost the company millions, you your name, and this branch its integrity, you can't really afford any more shenanigans. Are those reasons enough to convince you that this is a bad idea?"

Michael's eyebrows knit together, and his tone switched from friendly to downright nasty. "Ryan is my _friend_, and I'm _glad_ I hired him. Now I have paperwork to do, and need to get to it. Please close the door on your way out."

* * *

Michael: Dwight was right, she does have a stupid head, and stupider ways.

* * *

Jim knocked on Michael's door, and waited for the all clear to enter.

"Come in."

"You're not nude, are you?"

"You wish, Jimmy."

Jim jimmed, the expression more sad and tired than it had been in a long time.

"Hey, Michael, I'm going home. I do not feel up to working today, so I'm going home to watch _The Price Is Right_ and get some rest."

"That sucks. We were all going to go buy Ryan a beer and reward him for paying his debt to society."

"Well I, for one, will not be doing that. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jim drove home, and as promised watched _The Price Is Right_, and took a four hour nap. When he woke up, he immediately called Pam.

_Hey this is Pam and Janos, we're not here right now, so leave a message. _

"Hey," he started, "You won't believe what happened today…well, actually you will, but the answering machine cannot possibly do this story justice, so I will talk to you tonight. I hope."


	4. If it Feels Good Do It

Author's note: Okay, sorry about being a little later than I had stated in getting this up, but I needed a nap like you would not believe today. So, here you go, brand new chapter up; this time with 40 less self indulgent references to stuff I'm personally into.

* * *

Chapter 4: If It Feels Good, Do It.

It was 10:40, and Jim was about to go to bed; he was at his computer desk, his head occasionally dropping with drowsiness, then snapping back up again. He was trying to fight the natural tired of the hour, the creeping sadness and tightness in the stomach that Pam's conspicuous absence for the last 36 hours had caused, and the six pack he had polished off trying to forget her absence. He was also afflicted by the guilt he felt at the pangs of, in his mind, unfounded and irrational jealousy and anger at her.

'Five more minutes, then I'm taping a note to my chair,'he said to himself. Four and a half minutes passed excruciatingly slowly, then the webcam stream window popped up from the task bar. Pam's face, smiling radiantly, was there to greet him.

"Hey, sorry I'm so late - I was finishing a project in the paint studio. So what's the big news? What stupid thing did Michael do now?"

"I'll get to that later," Jim replied, already feeling the jealousy ebb away. "First, I want to see this project you've been burning the midnight oil on."

"Really?" Pam asked brightly, clearly excited that she could show her work off. She held up a small canvas upon which was an old fashioned balance scale; on one side of the scales was a bottle of water, on the other a can of grape soda. The can of grape soda apparently weighed much more than the water. She moved the canvas out of the webcam's view, looking shy, smiling, and blushing a little. "I'm thinking of calling it 'Weighing the Options.'"

The rest of the anger and jealousy was gone in an instant. "It's nice," he said somewhat coyly.

"Just nice?" Pam asked, a professional in this game that they always played.

"Yeah…it's very…um…artsy, but I'm just some schmucky salesman from Pennsylvania, so I don't get it."

"I hate you."

"I get that all the time. Doesn't even faze me anymore."

This, even more than _The Price is Right_, a nap, and beer (or several), was what he needed.

"Well," Pam began, after her laughter had trailed off, "what fresh disaster has Michael caused?"

"That's not how this works. You have to guess."

"Umm…Ryan was released from prison for ratting out a coke ring, and Michael hired him to temporarily fill in for me?"

Jim jimmed in shock.

"How in the hell can you know that?"

"I was struck by lightning. Now I'm psychic."

"That's amazing. So, are the Phillies getting to the playoffs?"

"I'm only psychic about Dunder Mifflin related items. Speaking of which, Dwight is going to be made a captain of his paintball team by the weekend."

Jim sat smiling, soaking in their exchange like spring sunshine. "Knowing the minutae of Dwight's life…did you spit on a gypsy's grave while getting struck by lightning? Because that sounds more like a curse than anything else."

"You don't want to know what actually goes on in his barn."

"Seriously though, how did you know that?"

"Michael texted me. Like seven times."

* * *

(On Jim's laptop screen)

Pam: One of his texts asked me how to get in touch with the Mayor's office to arrange to get both he and Ryan keys to the city, and maybe a 'tic-tac tape parade'. I sent him a message back that said it's 'ticker tape parade' and that I was pretty sure no city had actually done that since the forties. Then he asked if he could still get the keys to the city, and I had to explain that the key to the city would be symbolic, and wouldn't actually unlock every door in town.

* * *

The clock read 1:45, and Jim reluctantly had to end the conversation.

"I'm really sorry, Beesly, but I've got to go get some sleep."

"Okay, but before you go, I've got something sorta weird to ask you."

Jim jimmed a little, and said "Okay, shoot."

"We have to do a sketch of a live model, and I was wondering if it would be weird for you if I used Janos."

Jim swallowed hard, and the good feelings of the last three hours began to shrivel. "No, no," he said, trying a little too hard to play it cool, "That's fine. That's totally cool. Good luck with the drawing…of…him."

"Thanks," she said, correctly reading Jim's tone. "It's not like a nude thing, though, it's just of his face and possibly his hands."

The thought of Janos talking about his hands to Pam did nothing to calm him.

"No, it's totally cool. I've really got to get to bed, though, so I'll talk to you tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat channel?"

"Yep." She said, though it was clear from her tone of voice, that she knew it was still a little weird between the two of them.

"Sleep well, and kick art's ass tomorrow." Jim said, trying to bring the earlier feeling back to the conversation. "I love you."

"I know."

"Stop it," he said, this time legitimately smiling.

"Fine, I love you too." She said, and flashed the electric smile. She then reached up and turned the webcam off.

The window blinked off, Jim sighed, and grabbed his car keys.

* * *

The next morning, Jim walked into the office, again looking haggard and drawn. He silently sat down, turned his computer on and entered an online poker tournament.

Dwight sniffed the air, trying to find the source of an unpleasant smell that had recently wafted in. The source of the odor registered with Dwight, and he asked Jim in a shocked and oddly hurt voice, "Did you start smoking?"

* * *

(Outside the building)

Jim: I used to smoke in college, but I quit. I left myself some leeway to smoke one once in a while. (holds up pack) This is _one. _Out of my second pack. (takes a _long_ drag, and listens to an off camera question) The online poker? Yeah, I made my sales quota for the month like two weeks ago, so I have some room to screw around, and frankly, I just felt like not working. Shocker, huh?

* * *

The lunch conversation was focused on Jim's newly rediscovered habit.

"So, Tuna, you're on the cigarettes huh?"

"Yes, Andy, I'm _on_ the cigarettes."

"Cigarettes are disgusting, and they make _you_ look even _less_ responsible than you normally do," Angela declared.

"I don't know," Phyllis started, "Bobby smokes cigars, and I like it. It kind of makes him look like James Bond."

Michael walked into the break room just as Phyllis said James Bond. "Swords, I'll take Swords. For 400," he said in a terrible Sean Connery impression. "Sean Connery…" he said and waited for a reaction. "Ms. Nicklepenny, please hand me my uzi so I can shoot Dr. Goldfinger." Jim jimmed and shook his head.

The conversation continued as if Michael had never walked in.

"I think you would look _sexy_ smoking," Phyllis continued.

* * *

Phyllis: Jim would look sexy doing anything, but especially if he were punching Angela…without his shirt on.

* * *

"Yeah, like James Dean or something," Holly piped up.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Smoking is…stupid," he said flatly and turned on his heels and stomped away from the break room.

"So, I'm having a poker game at my house on Friday. Anyone who wants to play can come, just bring your own beer and twenty bucks that you don't mind losing." Jim said.

Ryan looked momentarily excited. "Really? Well, I'll have to see if I can make it, but I don't think my parole officer would mind if I…"

He was cut off by Jim. "Oh…you're not invited. So don't come." With that, Jim crumpled his brown bag and tossed it into the garbage. "Alright, I'm going…outside."

Everyone looked a little shocked, but Stanley was smiling ear to ear.

* * *

Stanley: (high pitched laughter) Did you see the look (more laughter) on that little twerp's face? (more laughter) That made my week.

* * *

(outside smoking)

Jim: Telling Ryan off? Yeah it felt good. Really good. Yesterday I was really bummed out about him being back here, and given our working relationship before he went to prison, I think that's understandable. But this morning I realized that he's here out of desperation, looking for a second chance. (a pause) So, I decided to be a huge jerk to him. It feels good just to say it, actually. (jims) I'm toying with the idea of telling Kelly he said something about her.

* * *

The day dragged on, and as everyone was getting ready to go home, the inevitable finally happened.

"Kelly," Ryan started, and hesitated "Can I talk to you for a minute, in private."


	5. I'm Not A Kid Anymore

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry about not posting for nigh on a week and a half, but I was busy with work, and a wedding in the far north, and some personal stuff. Anyway, new chapter up, and I have to thank someone special-she knows who she is- about being supportive of my writing, when few others seem to be.

* * *

Chapter 5: I'm Not a Kid Anymore

Kelly was surprisingly mute; she had played this moment out in her mind a million times, quite literally, over the thirteen months between hearing "you and I are done," to this moment. She stayed stolid, listening to Ryan give her a heartfelt apology. He clumsily rambled about New York, about falling into drugs, and about how during that time, he was always regretful for how he treated her.

"Kelly, I know that I was a jackass to you, both during our relationship and especially in how I ended it. Prison made me realize that I can't take relationships for granted. I did my time, and now I'm home. For good."

He paused, measuring what he would say next by trying to gauge her face. He swallowed hard and continued. "I want to make this clear. I'm not saying that I want to get back together. Far from it. You and I are wrong for each other, on so…many…and varied levels. I'm just saying that I'll always regret doing what I did."

The dam of silence broke.

"You 'regret it?' You 'regret it.' Well doesn't that just make you Mr. Super Sensitive, _Ryan_. You're so _Dawson's Creek_, when Joey's dad came back after years and years of being an a-hole and locked up and stuff and was like oh, Joey, I promise I'm totally done with crime and running out on you, and Joey just let him back into her life like, gee, okay Dad. And then he totally got busted selling drugs – again! Well, you know what? I'm _not_ Joey, Ryan. Did you _really _think that I'd be all weepy and just forgive you like nothing ever happened? It wasn't just that you got some fancy New York job and totally dumped me in front of everyone, but every time you came back here – _every _time, Ryan Bailey Howard – you all acted like you were just too cool for school, and stupid old Kelly who you left behind while you got to just live it up in the city! Not happening, buddy. Noooo way. You deserve everything you get, and that's why you won't be getting me. Or my forgiveness."

"Look," Ryan said slowly. "You can take this or leave it, but I needed to say it for me."

"You'll regret the day you ever dumped me. Ryan Bailey Howard."

"I just said that and you yelled at me for two straight minutes."

Kelly held her thumbs and index fingers into the shape of a large W, sent Ryan a vicious look, then turned and walked away.

* * *

Ryan: (sarcastically) It's great to be back.

* * *

Jim sat on his couch and nursed a beer while he took Penn State to the national championship game in NCAA '09. He had decided that he was going to lay it all on the line with Pam. He rehearsed the conversation in his head, and no matter how it unfolded, they ended the talk better and stronger than ever. By 10:00 he was _excited_ to talk to her and work things out.

The webcam stream blinked on and he greeted her warmly.

"Hi."

"Hey" she said, clearly relieved that the awkwardness of the previous night appeared to have dissipated.

"So how did the painting go over?"

"My professor said the theme was great, but that my fine technique needs some work. But, he said I'm definitely taking strides in the right direction."

"Well, I think the painting was awesome, and I am going to be hanging it in my apartment."

"I was going to hang it in mine," she said and exaggeratedly pouted.

"Oh…jeez…I cannot stand up to pouty-face."

"I knew you'd back down," she said, smiling.

"Speaking of backing down, Ryan asked to talk to Kelly right before everyone left. I could hear her from the parking lot."

"You know, I kinda feel bad for him," Pam said, "even though he had it out for you."

Jim was slightly offended. "Don't. He's getting what's been coming to him."

"Yeah, I know he's a jerk, but he sucked it up and came back, knowing he was going to have to mend some fences."

Jim blinked a few times, the parallel meanings in her sentence sinking in. He decided to change the subject.

"So how did sketching your roommate go?" he asked as pleasantly as he could.

If Pam had any feelings about Jim's obvious subject change, she didn't voice them. "It went well. Do you want to see what I have so far?"

"Sure."

Pam held up a charcoal drawing of a pair of hands. The lines were intricate, but still soft. The detail was incredible, but the lines looked effortless. Jim was blown away.

"That's good work, Beesly."

An unusual silence loomed between the two of them. Jim was staring at his feet when Pam broke it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine…I was just…I'm amazed at how _good_ that drawing is. It's just incredible. Which makes this even harder to say." There was a long, tense pause. "I am totally weirded out by you drawing Janos."

The silence returned. Jim looked up from his feet to see her face. Her expression was a mix of anger and raw hurt.

"What…what do you mean? Why?"

"I just…" Jim waved his hands helplessly. "It's just strange, and he's strange, and you're you-"

Her eyes widened. "I'm 'me?'" she almost-whispered.

"No…yeah. I mean you're beautiful, and amazing, and so friendly…and I'm just…there was that thing with Toby, and…"

"So you think I bring that kind of thing on myself? On purpose?" She shook her head. "You don't trust me."

"No. No. Pam, it's not that I don't trust you. I trust you implicitly. I'm just weirded out by _him_. He seems kind of like a scumbag…and with his talk about passion…look, I'm not telling you to not live with him, or draw him. Nothing like that, I just wanted you to know…in the interest of full disclosure."

"In the interest of full disclosure?" she repeated acidly. "Well in the interest of full disclosure, you're being an incredible ass."

"I know, I just…I shouldn't have said anything. I just wanted you to know, because I don't want to…I can't be that guy who would keep his feelings from you."

"But you can be that guy who gets irrationally jealous." She crossed her arms, her face and voice showing signs of fighting back tears.

"Pam, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know how I feel."

"Well, I feel like not talking to you right now."

The screen blipped off, and Jim was left in the semi-darkness of his living room, wondering why he had to open his stupid, stupid mouth.

* * *

Jim sat at his desk and watched the clock on his desktop click off each second. He had watched the second hand make 7200 revolutions, pausing only to check his email to see if Pam had responded to the missive he had sent her. His silent reverie was interrupted by a female voice.

"Hey, Jim? Do you have a second?" Holly asked.

Jim turned to face her, trying to put on an acceptable public face. "Hey Holly, what's up?"

"I need directions to your house for the poker game."

"Oh, sure." He scrawled on a sheet of paper and handed it to her.

"So…who's coming to this shindig?" she asked, her eyes drifting towards Michael's door.

"Oh, you know, I haven't really checked with everyone yet. But it's only Wednesday…"

"Umm, great." She looked around to make sure no one was listening, saw Michael trying to look like he wasn't eavesdropping, then continued anyway. "If you ever want some company while you're smoking, just come grab me. I'm in the midst of falling back off the wagon, and I promise, I won't tell Pam." With that she winked at Jim and walked back to the annex, shooting a quick 'hey' to Michael who was standing in his office doorway.

* * *

Jim: I know where this is going with Holly, and let me tell you, I would rather do self-dentistry than play the go-between for Michael and _anyone._ And…given the current state of my life…I'd…I'm…just no.

* * *

After an entire morning of Michael lurking around, Jim finally broke down and asked, "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Michael?"

"Yes, in my office please."

* * *

Jim: (throws hand in air and jims) Dammit. I had to ask

Michael looked pensive, as if for the first time possibly ever he was measuring his words. "Jim, I need your help with something."

"Fantastic," Jim said under his breath and looked at the ceiling, hoping it would crash down on him.

"I need to know how to be cool again."

Jim looked at Michael wide-eyed, clearly not expecting this turn of events.

Michael plowed on. "I used to be _so_ cool. And somewhere along the line, I lost it all."

Jim barely managed to suppress a laugh. "What made you so cool?" he asked with as much gravity as he could try to put into the question.

"I don't know, you know? It was the 90's and I was just out there doing my _own_ thing, right? I had my Cranberries CDs, and I watched _Friends_, and I did my street magic, and I knew every line to every Goat Boy sketch. Now…blurgh, I'm just this _old_ guy who pushes paper and drives a PT Cruiser. No woman is ever going to want me again."

"It _is_ a convertible," Jim said reassuringly, trying to get the situation reigned in before a conference room meeting was called.

"Yeah," Michael conceded glumly, then continued. "I just feel like I've lost my edge. What do you think I should do?"

"Go back to doing your own thing," Jim stated simply.

"That's stupid, my thing is what got me into this situation…that's what she said." The usual enthusiasm with which he said his favorite phrase was missing. Michael stared across his desk at Jim, unsure of the advice he was being given.

Jim smiled a little. "See there? _That _is your thing."

"That's also what she said."

Jim shook his head and continued. "Just have confidence in who you are, and everything else will fall into place."

"That's also, _also_ what she said."

Jim jimmed. "That doesn't really fit there."

Michael practically shouted, "That's what she said."

* * *

Michael: I feel better after talking to Jim, not just because he's my best bud, but because he has no idea what cool is, and still landed a hottie like Pam. All is not lost though - while I was tuning out what Jim said, I came up with a great idea to get my cool back. (waggles eyebrows)

* * *

Jim checked his email for the twelfth time, and seeing nothing in response from Pam, put on his coat, grabbed his bag, and joined the throng of office workers lurking around the exit. Thinking as he had all day about the conversation he and Pam had the night before, he walked up to Ryan's desk area.

"Ummm, hey man, you want to go get a beer, on me?"


End file.
